


Anachronism

by fowl68



Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Gen, Meeting the Parents, Parent-Child Relationship, Post-Canon?, Pre-Canon, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 17:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5506364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fowl68/pseuds/fowl68
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's strange. Lloyd had never pictured his mother as a small woman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anachronism

 

* * *

_What's past is prologue._   
_-William Shakespeare_

* * *

**Anachronism:** an error in chronology, or placing an event, person, item, or language expression in the wrong period. The term is originally from the Greek anakhronismos formed by combining _ana_ , which means "back or backwards," and _khronos_ , which means "time". Contemporary theater often uses anachronisms, such as when one of Shakespeare's plays is performed in modern-day clothing.

 

 

He wakes up gasping for air.

It's not something that hasn't happened before; the nightmares aren't as common anymore, but they still happen. _(Mithos' haunted, broken eyes, the smell of Iselia burning…)_ It takes Lloyd a minute to remember to control his breathing, a long minute in which his lungs seize, desperate for air that he _isn't inhaling_. He remembers Kratos, when everything had been much more simple, training him.

"If you can't control your breathing, you can't control the fight, or worse, yourself. Keep it under control."

Lloyd manages to get a breath in, holding it until it hurts despite the fact that all he wants to do is suck in all the oxygen _now_. Then he breathes it out, slow and stuttering. And again, and again until his head isn't spinning and the world isn't fuzzy around the edges anymore.

Now that he's calmed down, Lloyd can feel the earth beneath him, can feel the powerful sun on his face, making him squint. He'd fallen asleep at home, hadn't he? In his bed? Decidedly _not_ outside?

His back aches a little as he sits up. He's pretty sure he bruised it with all his flailing around for air. He blinks around, purple spots in his vision from squinting at the sun.

"You okay, kid?"

It takes Lloyd a moment to register that the words are directed at him. It takes him another moment to find the speaker. They crouch in front of him and when Lloyd manages to focus on their face, his breath leaves him all over again.

Because he _knows_ this face. He looks at it at least once a day where it's kept in the locket around his neck. It's a face he only remembers because of the photograph, but still.

"Mom?"

Anna Irving's eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. "You must've drank some good stuff, kid. I'm no one's mom."

Now that he's a little more centered, he can see differences. This woman is gaunter than the woman in his locket, her hair shorter, with traces of dark circles under her eyes. It's still definitely her, but she's younger than her photograph. "Yeah, sorry. My mistake."

"It's okay. Need some help up?" She offers her hand, the left one. There's a bandage on it, horizontal across the palm. Lloyd used to wear one like that, to cover his Exsphere.

He nearly drags her down by accident, she's so light. And it's only now that he's standing that he sees that he's taller than her. The top of her head barely comes to his shoulder.

Lloyd has never pictured his mother as a small woman.

"Thanks," he says. "I'm Lloyd."

"Anna. I'd ask you what you're doing in this alley, but really, I can figure it out."

Lloyd follows her gaze to where he'd been lying. There are bottle scattered everywhere; his nose wrinkles at the stench of alcohol. "Yeah, it was…a rough night."

Anna tilts her head at him, and Lloyd has the uncomfortable feeling that she can see right through him. Dad can do the same thing, and he wonders if it's a parent thing. "If you say so."

She bends to pick up grocery bags—ones that she must have set down to check on him—but Lloyd stops her. "Let me help you. As a thank you."

"And they say gentlemen don't exist anymore. Let me carry one of them, at least."

Lloyd gives her the lightest bag of bread and eggs. She is so _small_. And not just petite, but malnourished. Lloyd knows what ranch survivors look like; they've been helping them get acclimated to the new world for a few years now, helping them find medical treatments, and homes, and families. He had known that his mother had survived the ranch, that Kratos had broken her out, but somehow, he had never pictured her like she is now, with her cheekbones too prominent in her face, and overall entirely too thin. She seems breakable.

"Where are we headed?" Lloyd asks.

"Oh, the inn. I'm not staying here for long."

When Lloyd looks around—he hasn't looked away from her, captivated by her voice, her movements, everything. This is his _mom_ —he realizes he recognizes this city. Luin, Before the Desians attacked it. Before Pietro and all the survivors rebuilt it. "Where are you headed?"

She shrugs. "Wherever the wind takes us."

"Us?"

She smiles a little, and it's a bit crooked, a bit wry. "I'm travelling with my husband. We're…nomads, I guess the word is."

"I know what that's like."

"Yeah?"

"I travelled with my family too. For…a while." Sometimes, it's a little hard to remember life before starting out with Genis to chase after Colette. Other days, it's all too easy.

"You settled down now? Got a wife of your own?" At his hesitation, she adds," Or a husband. I'm not judgey."

That makes him laugh and he doesn't know why. She makes it easy, he supposes. _(Was that one of the reasons why Kratos fell in love with her?)_ "No, I don't think I'm ready to settle down completely. I just don't travel as much anymore. I stay in places longer than a couple of days now."

"That sounds nice," Anna says.

"It is. Most of the time." There are days when Lloyd feels restless, feels the need to be _going_ somewhere, but he isn't. "Sometimes, I actually miss my best friend's snoring."

He jumps a little when she laughs. It's loud, and utterly shameless, and he stares when it's over because she's still grinning, and he knows that expression because it's his own in the mirror. He has his mother's grin. There's a little place inside him that squirms with delight at the knowledge.

"Fair enough. Where are they now?"

"In Palmacosta. Finishing up at the Academy."

"Wow. Fancy stuff. What about you? No school for you?"

"I'm not very good at it," he says, a sheepish smile in place.

"'Heh, well, neither was I." Her grin shifts into something mischievous, eyes glinting. "Too much of a troublemaker, according to my teachers."

 _(She seemed so young, in that moment. And now that Lloyd thought about it, they probably weren't that far apart in age right now. Maybe a few years. But his mother had always been a distant figure, never quite young in his mind. Mothers were never young for children. But right now, Anna was. She was smiling, and free of the ranch, and she seemed entirely too young for all that had happened to her. All that_ would _happen to her)_

They turn the corner onto the main street, and a large shape pads towards them. Lloyd recognizes it immediately; Noishe is the same as Lloyd knows him, large and powerful, but unthreatening.

Anna smiles and greets him, offering a hand. Noishe bites her—gently, not enough to hurt. Just pressing—and she laughs softly. "There's nothing to worry about, you mutt. It was a grocery run."

Lloyd shifts the groceries so one arm is free, and he goes automatically to pet him, but Noishe's ears flatten, and his eyes go sharp. _(Noishe knew Lloyd all his life. There was never a moment where the protozoan hadn't recognized him and to see that at this moment, he didn't know who Lloyd was, it hurt)_

"Calm down, Noishe." Anna's voice goes soft, but a little authoritative. "He's fine. He's just helping me with my groceries." She turns to him, her voice returning to its normal level. "Sorry about that. This is our—dog, Noishe. He's not very good with strangers."

"No, I—I guess not." _(Kratos mentioned that Noishe used to not be afraid of monsters. It was something that was a little hard for Lloyd to picture. His Noishe was playful, and a bit timid, but constant companion. He didn't like to be left behind. Perhaps this Noishe didn't like it either, but there was a subtle ferocity there that Lloyd didn't recognize)_

Anna scratches Noishe behind the ears and his tail goes _tick-tock_. She bats his head lightly, playfully. "Get going, mutt. Where's your master?"

Noishe's muzzle wrinkles, and if he'd been human, it would be a look of such _distaste_ that Lloyd and Anna laugh. But he licks Anna's hand, and with a final narrow-eyed look at Lloyd, he trots away.

"He's very…unique, for a dog."

"Yes, he is. I don't know where my husband found him, but—they're suited for each other."

The inn door is propped open with a brick, likely to entice a breeze inside, and they climb the stairs. Lloyd is half afraid that Kratos will be there—what will happen if he sees him? He won't recognize him. Whether this is all a dream, or one of those memory-type things like Lloyd had seen with Mithos' Exsphere, it's certainly not present day—but when they manage to get the room door open, he isn't there.

They set the groceries on the small table, and Anna says, "Thanks for the help, Lloyd."

"Anytime." He wants to hug her. He wants to hug the woman who isn't his mother yet, but she will be. He doesn't know how to do it without being awkward, but he knows he might never get this chance again.

She stiffens when his arms go around her, tight and tense and he really hadn't thought about this. Maybe she doesn't like to be touched? "You're a hugger, then?"

He backs off, and she relaxes. She's a ranch survivor. He doesn't think she likes being touched so suddenly. Most of the ranch survivors he knows are like that. "Yeah, sorry about that. I wasn't even thinking."

"It's fine," she says, waving it away. "I just wasn't expecting it."

"Bye, M—Anna. It was nice to meet you."

She smiles, one corner of her mouth higher than the other. "You too, Lloyd."

He leaves reluctantly, and he isn't sure where to go. If this dream or memory or _whatever_ this is isn't over, what does he do?

He doesn't get a chance to think about it. As he takes the first step down the stairs he feels himself falling, and by the time he lands, he's lying on his bed at home again. His breath is still knocked out of him, but his lungs aren't seizing like they were before.

There's a wet lick on his hand and Lloyd turns his head to look into Noishe's familiar hazel eyes. "Hey, Noishe. I missed you."

If Noishe thinks the statement is strange, he doesn't say anything, but he does clamber onto the bed and sprawl half on top of him, which makes it hard for Lloyd to breathe again because Noishe is _heavy._

Lloyd tugs the locket out from beneath his shirt, clicking it open. The photo is familiar, by this point, but now, he can recognize things he hadn't before. He can see how happy his mother looks, tucked into Kratos' side, with a baby in her arms. He can see how young she is, how strong she must have been. And he can see Kratos, eyes and face softer than Lloyd has ever seen it, his attention focused on her, on him. On his family.

Noishe whines, pushing his cold nose into Lloyd's chest. He scratches Noishe behind the ears and there goes his tail, _tick-tock_ , and there's a low, pleased growl that vibrates through Lloyd's body. They lie there for long minutes before Lloyd gently pushes him off.

As Lloyd is putting on his boots, he looks back at Noishe, smiling crookedly. "Wanna come talk to Mom with me?"


End file.
